


a little stress relief

by cherryliqueur



Series: under the same roof [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Infidelity, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Riverdale - Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryliqueur/pseuds/cherryliqueur
Summary: Betty feels more helpless than not these days, but FP finds a way to take her mind off of things.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/FP Jones II
Series: under the same roof [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185200
Comments: 16
Kudos: 229





	a little stress relief

**Author's Note:**

> FP eating Betty out. That's it, that's the story.

She tells herself that the first time it happens doesn’t really count, because she’s drunk and can barely make sense of herself by the time FP comes home from the station and passes by her open bedroom door to find her on her bed, half a dozen empty bottles of his beer on her nightstand and one more in her hand. She’s home alone, with her mother working another late night and Jellybean out with her friends, and she hadn’t been expecting FP to get home this early. She doesn’t expect him to be angry, exactly, but she expects some kind of lecture or half-hearted attempt to discipline her, if not as her mother’s boyfriend and sort-of new father figure, then at least as the town sheriff.

What she doesn’t expect is for FP to tell her to finish her bottle and then press a new one into her hand when she does, and she certainly doesn’t expect for him to invite himself to join her on her bed and ask what’s wrong. But she’s frustrated and stressed, and so _drunk_ that when FP’s hand falls onto her leg to squeeze it in a gesture she thinks is meant to be comforting, she gets distracted from her slurred ramble as his touch makes her skin tingle. His fingers are long and calloused and feel _so good_ against her flushed skin as he strokes higher up her thigh, and when his fingers brush against the edge of her panties, she doesn’t think about how this should feel wrong, that she should be repulsed. She doesn’t think about the fact that FP is not only her boyfriend’s father, but her mother’s boyfriend, too. She doesn’t think at all, just lets her head fall back with a moan as FP tugs her panties and her shorts all the way down her legs before pushing them open wide, pressing her into the mattress as he holds her open.

Betty’s cries sound wanton and whiny even to her own hazy, drunken mind as FP’s tongue works her to one orgasm, then two, then three – and by the time she’s coming down from her fourth, her throat feels raw from her screams, and her pussy is so sensitive from the scratch of his beard that his teasing last lick has her body jolting back despite being the fact that she’s nearly passing out from pleasure.

(The next morning, FP asks her over breakfast if she’s feeling any better after last night, and though she nearly melts in embarrassment from the effort not to blush in front of her mother and Jellybean, she realizes with a throb of her clit that yeah, she actually does.)

* * *

Betty tells herself that second time doesn’t really count, either, when she’s still sort of recovering from her downward spiral in the cemetery when her mother found her screaming and smashing her father’s headstone to pieces. She’s a mess, and she’s vulnerable and emotional, and she hates that Jughead has an early class and doesn’t stay overnight to comfort her, because her bed feels cold and empty after he’d dropped by to check on her. It’s selfish to even think that considering he came all the way here in person, but the last thing she wants is to be left alone right now, so when her door creaks open in the middle of the night and FP slips in, Betty promises that one more time won’t hurt. She needs to take care of herself, and she needs comfort, and if FP is willing to be that for her, then why can’t she take it?

“So fucking sweet,” FP groans, his face in her pussy the second he gets her panties and shorts out of the way for a second time, and though she knows he’s being quiet, knows that her door is closed and both her mom and Jellybean are heavy sleepers, Betty feels a pulse of panic – and arousal – shoot down her spine at the thought of either of them hearing. She thinks FP feels it, too, if the way he chuckles against her clit is any indication, but she doesn’t dwell on it much longer because then his tongue is fucking into her, curling, and she’s throwing both hands over her mouth and mustering what little focus she has right now into keeping quiet.

He makes her come and come and _come_ until she’s sweaty and shaking and weakly trying to push his head from her pussy, her body twitching and curling back into the mattress in an attempt to get away from his tongue, but he doesn’t relent, not even a little.

“Best pussy ever,” he groans, rubbing his beard over her clit, and her vision nearly whites out as that little, harsh stimulation pushes her to yet another orgasm. Her body feels as if it’s burning, melting from the never-ending high she’s been riding, and it’s hard to believe how much she hurt just hours ago when she’s almost numb from so much pleasure. “Goddamn delicious,” FP mutters as he finally pulls away, his face glistening in the dark from all of her orgasms, and Betty thinks it should be impossible to feel any arousal when she’s just about ready to pass out, but her stomach flutters as she watches FP lick his lips before climbing out of her bed.

* * *

She tries not to think about him and his tongue and his beard scratching against her pussy, just tries to relish in the fact that she feels more relaxed now than she thinks she’s felt in a long, long time, but a week later, she’s feeling an entirely different kind of frustrated. She gets herself off every night and more than once, and though she felt slightly mortified at finally breaking open the sex toy care package Veronica had thrown together as a joke for a reason Betty can’t honestly remember anymore, not even the fancy and no doubt expensive assortment of vibrators can really calm the constant tingling in her clit. It isn’t until she’s so distracted that she excuses herself from class to get herself off in the bathroom, and she _still_ feels on edge, that she caves.

She’s laying on her stomach on the couch in the living room under the guise of doing homework when FP gets home – and because she knows that both her mother and Jellybean won’t be back anytime soon, she didn’t change out of her Vixens practice gear, knowing that her shorts are barely covering her ass from this angle when FP walks through the front door.

“Well, well,” he chuckles, and Betty feels her pussy tingle as his footsteps near her. She glances over her shoulder, her eyes lingering on his mouth as his tongue darts out to lick his lips before flicking up to meet his gaze. “Feeling a little stressed, Betty Cooper?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, jolting when she feels his hand on the back of her thigh as it skirts up to the swell of her ass, and when he tucks his fingers under her shorts, his fingertips are immediately met the slick, wet heat of her pussy.

He smirks. “How stressed?” he asks, stroking her, teasing her twitching entrance, and Betty’s body curls, hips jutting back against his hand.

“ _Very_.” Her voice is whiny as his fingers slide lower, finding her clit, and her body trembles in relief at his touch. She should be embarrassed by how close she is to unraveling from this one, little touch, but after spending the whole week on edge, never quite feeling relief, she doesn’t care. She just needs to _come_.

“Grab the back of the couch,” he orders as he stares down at her, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the dark look in his eyes or because of how desperate her arousal has made her, but she doesn’t even blink before scrambling to comply. She shoves her notebooks and papers to the floor in her haste to pull herself up and onto her knees, and she presses her body against the cushions, her hands gripping the back of the couch for balance as his hands force her legs wider apart. “Did you go through practice like this?” he asks, the stitches of her shorts stretching with how roughly he yanks them down to her knees, revealing what he had felt for himself – that she hadn’t been wearing panties underneath.

Her clit throbs against the cold air, and she can feel her wetness slowly sliding down the inside of her thighs as her pussy twitches.

“I did,” she answers, twisting to look over her shoulder as she watches him loosen his tie, undo the first few buttons of his shirt as he stares down at her pussy as if a he’s a starved man.

“Did you want to be ready for me, just in case I showed up? In case I wanted to throw you up against the lockers and dine on that fucking fantastic pussy of yours?”

 _Oh, god._

Betty shudders, the images flitting through her hazy thoughts as she jerks her head in a nod. She imagined those very things; imagined him spreading her out on the teacher’s desk during every period, or between the shelves of the library, or on the gym floor in the middle of practice for all of the Vixens to watch. She’d come particularly hard at that last one when she’d fucked herself with a vibrating dildo the night before, picturing Veronica watching them, watching _her_ come apart on FP’s tongue again and again and _again_ – but no fantasy could live up to the real thing. Betty knows that firsthand.

“I don’t want you to wear panties from now on,” he tells her, then licks a broad stripe over her cunt, purposefully missing her clit, and Betty whimpers as she presses her cheek into the back of the couch.

“W-What?” Her pussy flutters. At practice is one thing; to be bare and wet under all of her skirts, or rubbing against her jeans, all day, for anyone to find?

FP licks closer to clit again, the tip of his tongue grazing her little bundle of nerves, and Betty cries out.

“I want your sweet pussy ready for me, no matter what.” He laps at her, his tongue slipping inside, just for a moment, and Betty’s eyes nearly cross from his teasing. “Maybe I’ll show up at the high school on patrol and want a little snack on the bleachers.” He circles his tongue, grazing her clit again, and she whimpers. “Or maybe I’ll run into you around town, needing a little taste to get me through the day.”

He licks, avoiding her little bundle yet again, and she nearly cries. “Please.”

“No more panties,” he repeats, and then wraps his lips around clit and sucks hard, and her wanton cry of “yes, yes, _yes”_ is the last thing she remembers before she’s fucking back against his face, dissolving into a babbling mess as orgasm after orgasm squirts out of her and onto the couch.

* * *

“W-Wait,” she moans weakly, fingers scratching at the large desk in FP’s office as he bends her over it and pushes her skirt up her ass, baring her slick pussy to him as he kicks her feet wider apart. There had barely been anyone in the station when she walked in, but his door is _unlocked,_ and the few people that _are_ here could walk in at any moment and see FP on his knees behind her as he starts fucking her with his tongue.

One of his hands is gripping her leg, warning her not to squirm away, and the other comes up to rub tight, quick circles over her clit. Betty’s forehead falls against the wood as she moans, her orgasm building quickly, too quickly, but the sound of voices and footsteps has her head snapping up and her eyes widening as she tries to scramble away.

“FP,” she whimpers, pleading, her body throbbing both panic and arousal as the voices grow closer. Her cheeks flush, her eyelashes fluttering, and when a shadow passes over the small crack in the door, Betty swears she almost stops breathing. FP takes advantage of how still she’s become, too, curling his tongue and licking into her as his thumb and forefinger pinch her clit, and Betty’s eyes are half-lidded and still trained on the door even as she’s shaking from the force of her orgasm as it crashes over her.

The footsteps pass, the voices fading away moments later, and a small cry leaves Betty’s lips as FP rolls her clit between his fingers. They’d been seconds away from being caught – someone had been _seconds_ away from seeing her bent over FP’s desk, coming all over his tongue – and she knows it had only made her orgasm feel harsher and hotter, even with her heart in her throat.

“I wonder how hard you would’ve come if they _did_ walk in,” FP chuckles against her pussy, and then he’s lapping at her clit before she can even begin to think of a response, making her cry out against the wood as her vision starts to blur once more.

* * *

Betty thinks that she must be imagining it at first; she’s dizzy from coming so hard, and the haze of pleasure hasn’t had a chance to fade, not even a little, with FP still licking at her in broad, firm strokes as she’s straddling his face, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to think that she only thought she heard the front door open downstairs.

But then there’s a laugh, light and high-pitched as it echoes through the living room, and Betty’s head snaps to her (thankfully _closed_ ) door as she hears footsteps across the floor, hitting the bottom of the staircase. She starts to scramble off of FP – he may still be in his uniform, having come home in the middle of a shift, but he’d stripped her bare before pulling her pussy over his face, and there would be no way to convince Jellybean that there’s an innocent reason for FP being in Betty’s room if she’s _naked_ – but he digs his hands into her hips, forcing her back down over his mouth as he sucks on her clit.

“Jellybean is home,” Betty hisses, trying and failing to twist out of his grip, but his tongue slides through her folds, curling into her, and she presses her face against the hard bulge of his cock through his pants in a poor attempt to muffle her moan.

“Does she ever come looking for you in your room?” FP murmurs against her cunt, nibbling at her folds and nearly making her cry out.

“N-No, but…”

He hums against her clit, making her hips jerk, grinding down on his face as she presses hers harder against his thigh to stifle her mewls, and she’s so distracted by the vibrations he’s sending over her oversensitive little of nerves that she doesn’t realize he’s let go of one of her hips and reached down to unzip himself until she feels the heavy length of his cock hit her cheek.

“FP!” she gasps, eyes wide as they dart to her door as the two laughing voices float through the hallway and into the room next door; Jellybean must have a friend over, and Betty’s pussy flutters at the thought of them coming into Betty’s room and finding her like this, grinding on FP’s face as she moans and pants against his thick cock. Jellybean has never _once_ come in here looking for Betty for any reason, but that doesn’t little to convince Betty that it won’t happen right now, in this moment, as FP laps at her clit and brings her closer and closer to another orgasm. “I-I… _ah_ …”

He taps his cock against her cheek once more, and she hesitates, until FP sucks on her, rougher this time, and she takes his cock into her mouth to keep from shrieking like she’d come so, so close to doing. He sucks on her again, and again, and Betty whimpers as he hits the back of her throat, the edges of her vision starting to blur as the pleasure throbs through her, harder and faster.

She takes his cock all the way into her throat when her orgasm hits, and though Betty’s lungs are burning for air, her body spasming as FP holds her down against his face and eats her out through her orgasm, she doesn’t try to pull off of his cock even by an inch, knowing it’s the only thing keeping her from screaming out.

* * *

“You promise me that you’re feeling better?” Jughead asks from the other end of the line as Betty grips her phone so tightly she’s certain she’s losing circulation, but she knows if she loosens it even just a little, she won’t be able to hold her phone at all; not with the way FP is lapping at her clit, working the vibrating dildo in and out of her in teasing strokes, making her feel the pulse of the toy against every inch of her oversensitive pussy.

“I promise, Jug,” Betty says, praying that her boyfriend can’t hear how breathy and shaky her voice is as FP rubs his beard over her clit, nearly making her eyes cross from the pleasure that shoots through her. Then FP ups the vibrations in the toy, twisting it inside of her and thrusting it in deeper, still brushing the harsh hairs of his beard against her, and Betty’s mouth parts in a silent moan.

“I wish I could visit sooner, and I know you can take care of yourself, but I did ask Dad to just keep an eye on you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” she nearly squeaks, the edges of her vision starting to white out.

“I’m glad. I love you, okay?”

FP sucks her clit between his lips, his thumb pushing into her tight rim as he fucks her faster with the dildo, and Betty prays that Jughead thinks her voice is tight with emotion as her orgasm bursts through her and she barely breathes out, “love you, too!”


End file.
